


Wicked Witch is nice but Queen of the Underworld sounds better

by Ragingstillness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, One of my many versions of the Zades kiss, Zelena and Persephone are different people in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6845866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragingstillness/pseuds/Ragingstillness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My own version of the Zades kiss. This was written before the kiss actually happened so it's sort of an AU now but eh, I'm not complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Witch is nice but Queen of the Underworld sounds better

    Persephone was sitting on the arm of Hades’ throne, barely balanced on the gilded surface, distracting him from his work. He leaned his head on his palm, discretely using the motion to move away from her. Her fingers clutched at the edges of his sleeves and he could not have been more frustrated if he wanted to.   
    Persephone was a fine woman, reasonably kind, young, beautiful, but she had several insurmountable flaws.   
    She was loyal to Zeus, which was always a fault in of itself, and she believed herself to be in love with Hades.   
    She did nothing for him; his stone heart didn't shake at her touch and when he looked at her his breath didn't catch and words of devotion seem to spill from his lips in whispers.   
    What a contrast to his lady.   
    Flashes of auburn flame-spun hair, the click of stilettoed heels, and pale blue eyes brimming with teams swam to the surface of his mind. He hadn’t realized it at the time but his soul had probably fallen for hers the moment he first saw her.   
    A sudden flood of new souls had been pouring into the underworld and they all seemed to have one thing in common with few exceptions. Each and every soul was a criminal of some kind, either one convicted already or hoping to get away with an old fault.   
    He had passed many sleepless nights trying to keep up with the increase then when it didn’t slow, he began to question the souls, asking them who killed them. One answer came back to him, quickly from the bitter ones, slower from the scared ones. The Wicked Witch of the West.   
    He dug out an old artifact from the useless loot of the Underworld that could find the image of anyone. When he asked it for the Wicked Witch of the West, the large rectangular mirror showed him an empty balcony. He was about to smash it in frustration and get back to the backlog when someone walked out onto the balcony.   
    His fist froze over the image.  
    The woman before him was wearing a long black slip and an opaque robe, tied tight against the night chill. He felt a little intrusive but was comforted by her sensitivity to modesty as well.   
    Her walk was stately but the minute she neared the rail she swung herself onto it with abandon, sitting backwards on the edge.   
    She gripped the rail with white knuckles then swung up her hands to her hair, pulling pins out of the complex swirl and letting them clatter to the balcony marble. Long, artful curls spilled out and she threw her head back, letting them fall and lighting her face with the moon.  
    Nothing of interest had occurred yet so he was once again about to clear the image when she opened her mouth and began to sing.   
    Her voice was skilled in the way one acquires skill without training and just endless repetition. But the ways she could flutter and whirl the notes didn’t make him freeze again. The words hit him the hardest.   
    She was out on her own, resplendent in beauty, flirting with death, and singing about sadness. He’d never seen something so amazingly beautiful and simultaneously desolate. He’d gone to see her the very next day.  
    Persephone poked him in the arm rudely and Hades jolted back from his remembrances with reluctance.  
    He dismissed the soul awaiting judgement in front of him; the man had done well in his life and deserved all his immortal hours of Elysium. The soul scurried away to the blinding light, bowing and praising Hades for his generosity. The Lord of the Underworld sighed.   
    Zeus just had to decide, now of all times, that his erstwhile brother would benefit from finally falling in love and settling down. Hades had numerous intruders reversing the order of the Underworld and yet when news reached Olympus Zeus must have tossed the missive in a nearby ceremonial flame. He may have meant sending a potential lover as a meager apology for stopping his brother's heart but it just added insult to injury as the annoyance of having an admirer who was desperately trying to convince herself they should be together was giving Hades a headache. Persephone didn't love him, she just wanted to because Zeus said they would be "perfect together."   
    So despite her mindless loyalty, this really wasn't her fault. Therefore he could never strike her or rage at her, not that he'd ever want to hurt a woman, and there she stayed, bothering him.   
    And Hades had little to no trust of Zeus’ ability to judge a woman’s worth, considering how recklessly he slept around. Zeus treated women like pleasure toys, leaving a trail of broken hearts and illegitimate demigod children behind, centuries long.   
    Hera got hers occasionally but generally the track record showed nothing but abuse of power in Hades’ eyes. He made no secret of his disdain for Zeus’ promiscuity but being Lord of the Underworld didn’t really hold much sway with the powers of high Olympus.   
    Zeus openly blamed Hades’ disdain on a so-called lack of experience but as the older brother Hades knew he just had a better appreciation than his spoiled sibling did.   
    When the throne room was clear he made to call in the next soul but Persephone's sudden placing of a hand on his chest stopped him. She wasn't trying to touch him exactly, but appeared to be looking for his heartbeat. He tensed under her fingertips, wondering when it would be appropriate to push them off. Finding nothing from her invasion of his personal space, she leaned up to look at him, her hand still resting on his chest and her cheeks slightly colored.   
    "Wow, you really don't have a heartbeat. I feel so sorry for you, unable to experience love or affection or happiness. It just isn't fair!"   
    Now that he could agree with.   
    Her lips stuck out and her eyes even began to water, but instead of feeling sympathy he only felt a strange kind of fear. Most men would be fearful because they didn't have the experience of dealing with crying women but he was afraid that if she started, he wouldn't be able to get her to stop.   
    She looked back at him. He glanced towards the door.   
    "Is it true that True Love's kiss can restart your heart?"   
    He nodded, not gracing the question with a real answer, his brain already quite fried from the day.   
    "Then this should work perfectly!"   
    He barely had time to wonder 'what?' When she leaned forward, grabbed his lapels and kissed him. His eyes shot open and he shoved her away as gently as he could, disgusted and a little angry that she hadn't even asked first. She pouted in his arms then leaned forward suddenly with superhuman strength and laid her hand again on his heart.   
    "Awww," she whined, feeling the continued stillness underneath her palm.   
    He was about to open his mouth and explain, as gently as possible, that he didn't love her and hope it'd go over alright when he heard a familiar noise from the door. The gallop of high heels and a muffled snicker.   
    He looked up and there she was, the love of his life, growing more beautiful it seemed with the passing minute. He picked Persephone's hand off his chest, hoping she would miss how that dead heart was moving, hesitant but passionate, inside its owner's chest. Any true indications of the curse breaking would be reported to Zeus and if his brother did get off his butt enough to be concerned, he’d certainly want to keep anyone from breaking it. A dagger of fear stabbed him as he met the slightly amused and confused eyes of the Wicked Witch of the West.   
    His mouth dropped open when he realized how very compromising his situation was but a tilt of Zelena’s head showed him she understood fully what had transpired.   
    Persephone got up and walked a couple steps towards the other woman, stretching languidly and possessively.   
    "Who are you and what are you doing here?"   
    Zelena chose not to answer, instead commenting on the pathetic scene she had just inadvertently witnessed.   
    "Come now, that's not the way you do it."   
    Hades barely stifled a laugh and Persephone stiffened a little.   
    "How dare you?"   
    Zelena sauntered forward until she was even with Persephone then abruptly passed off her cloak and hat to the astonished Goddess. She continued on her path towards Hades and his heart jumped again at how wonderful she looked, comfortable in her absolute control of the situation.  
    She had worn black stilettos as always, but underneath the cloak she modeled a high collar, sleeveless, leather dress with a silver zip up the front and a mid-forearm length shirt underneath it. He had only ever seen her in black but he knew for a fact that it was one of the best colors on her.   
    She didn't seem to be stopping in her path and he flinched when she set a knee onto the center of the chair, leaning fully over him.   
    Her eyes were clearer than he’d seen them, the worry about her perfect child and pain of her physical injuries vanishing in the kind of self-confidence he’d always wished she had. In a phrase, she had finally seen herself the way he saw her.   
    The closeness of her position sped up the stutters of his heart, but he was perfectly comfortable.   
    She had reached some sort of understanding, he could see it sparking on the tip of her tongue, and she wanted to share it with him. He was the listener, all that was left to do was remain quiet.   
    He saw a smile grace her rose pink lips and then her eyes flick down to his. When he returned the favor automatically she smiled lightly and time seemed to stop.   
    "You've got to really love him," she whispered, half to Persephone and half to him, before crossing the distance and kissing him.   
    His eyes slid shut but he could still feel the wave of indomitable magic shoot away from their point of connection in all directions and some kind of orchestra seemed to swell in their aria. He pressed back against her easily, feeling her hand come up to his cheek. He could feel her blackberry smile tilt to one side and her hesitant fingertips, wrapping languidly around his jawline.   
    Then he just couldn't take the sweetness anymore and he stood, wrapping both arms around her lower back and crushing her to him, holding her off the ground. She reacted to the movement by placing both hands on his cheeks and leaning down to keep from breaking the kiss.   
    He didn't know what had compelled her to come here and at this time but he didn't care. All he knew was how the love he'd coveted for years seemed to rush from her into his body and he practically gasped against her lips as, for the first time in eons, he felt his heartbeat. The sensation was strange to him, a constant vibration under the left side of his chest, strongly proclaiming his happiness with every pulse of previously stagnant blood.   
    They both separated after several moments and he lowered her just enough so the toe tips of her shoes clattered on the tile. She leaned in again and rested her ear on his chest, feeling the steady beat reverberate and realizing finally, exactly what it meant.   
    She turned her head up to look at him and began to laugh, a sound as clear and lovely as he'd ever heard, watching her eyes fill up slightly as she decided to give herself finally to the love that had been chasing her the whole time.


End file.
